AVA MAKES ROOM for Carlos and me in the tight investigation room, clearing space on the table. Carlos and I bring in our laptops and the three of us get to work, hunting through the FBI database and making phone calls. Carlos orders food—another pizza—and we eat lunch while we work.
Given our new access to FBI online tools, it doesn’t take long to discover that two years ago, on the solstice, a Ute woman from Durango, Colorado, disappeared and was never found. A year before that, a Kickapoo woman from Houston disappeared.
Also on the solstice.
Also never found.
It takes us longer to figure out if golden eagle feathers had been left behind. I call the Durango Police Department and finally convince someone to look through the old files. There are no feathers in evidence, but the officer I speak with flips through some crime scene photos and sees a feather on a desk in the woman’s room. He takes a picture of the picture and texts it to me. The image isn’t great, but the size and color of the feather show that it, too, probably belonged to a golden eagle.
Meanwhile, Ava calls the Houston Police Department, and after some digging, they find a feather in an old evidence box. By midafternoon, we’ve established that for four years in a row, Native women went missing on the solstice, with feathers left behind. In all cases the women were young, between eighteen and twenty-one. We can’t yet see any other links between them.
They come from four different tribes—Tigua, Navajo, Kickapoo, and Ute—and it’s doubtful any of the women knew each other. Even though the last two—Fiona Martinez and Rebecca Trujillo—both disappeared from the El Paso area, Fiona was actually from Flagstaff, Arizona, and had only recently moved to Texas. Rebecca was already gone by then.
While Carlos continues typing away on his laptop, Ava and I begin discussing what it’s going to take to fully look into these four missing persons cases. We’ll need access to all four police files. We will need to travel to these different communities, spanning four states, and interview the women’s friends and family members. We’ll need to examine whatever evidence the local authorities have in storage.
The bottom line: We’re going to need a bigger team than the three of us.
“I think it’s time we let Ryan Logan know what we’ve found,” I say. “We’re going to need help.”
“Wait one second,” Carlos says, still scrutinizing his computer screen. Finally, he looks up with a satisfied expression and says, “I think I found a fifth victim.”
He explains that four years ago on the solstice, a young woman went missing. She was seventeen, which makes her a little younger than the others. Nothing in the record says anything about an eagle feather, but the disappearance on the solstice is significant.
“Where was she from?” Ava asks.
“Right here on the Tigua Pueblo,” Carlos says. “She was last seen at a powwow happening in El Paso, so the local cops and the feds took the lead in the investigation.”
“I wasn’t here that far back,” Ava says. “I was working for the highway patrol up in the Panhandle.”
“There’s more,” Carlos adds, grinning because he knows that he’s holding us in suspense.
“Spill it,” I say. “Don’t leave us waiting.”
“She’s still alive!”
My eyes go wide.
Carlos explains that the woman—whose name is Isabella Luna—was discovered on a highway eighty or so miles east of El Paso. She’d been gone for ten days and was badly malnourished and seriously injured.
Cuts.
Broken bones.
Even a rattlesnake bite.
“The police and FBI questioned her about what happened,” Carlos says, “but she had no recollection. Finally, it looks like they gave up trying to get her to remember. They just let it go. Closed the case.”
Ava says that she knows who Isabella Luna is.
“She’s a good person,” Ava says. “She works in the restaurant at the casino. She’s got a smile for everyone who comes in. I knew she disappeared for a while, but it never occurred to me it might be related. I didn’t realize it happened on the solstice.”
“The police report says she has no memory of anything between performing at the powwow and being found on the highway,” Carlos says.
Immediately, I’m thinking about how Isabella Luna might hold the key to breaking this case open. However, I can see the sympathetic look in Ava’s eyes, and I’m reminded that we’re talking about a person who has clearly been through a lot.
“I hate to make her relive her trauma,” Ava says, “but if it can save other lives, we’ve got to find out what she remembers.”